


it’s just i’m constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you

by Milzilla



Series: don't you ever tame your demons (but always keep 'em on a leash) [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: + epilogue, 5+1, M/M, shadowhunters au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-01-16 08:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21268328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milzilla/pseuds/Milzilla
Summary: five times alex and michael flirt, and the one time they don’t(set in the shadowhunters au verse)





	1. i-iii

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to get the first half of this up while some part of the world is still technically in spooky hours, since i failed spectacularly at doing any spooky rnm for october. next part shouldn't be too far away!
> 
> totally unbeta'd. all mess is mine.

**i.**

The second time that they meet with the warlocks at The Wild Pony, Alex only takes Kyle with him. He adores the Ortecho sisters but he knows that they don’t need the backup and it’s better not to draw attention to their outing when it isn’t officially Institute approved.

The bar is also filled with patrons, a mix of all sorts of Downworlders. Mimi Deluca’s bar has always welcomed patrons from all walks of life, even if most Shadowhunters choose not to visit unless they really need to, and things haven’t changed now that Maria’s mostly in charge.

She greets them as walk up to the bar, placing two bottles of beer in front of them like she’s had them ready the whole time.

Alex eyes her. “We’re here on business, Maria.”

Maria just rolls her eyes at him. “Unofficial. And it _is _possible to mix business and pleasure. Christ, Alex. It won’t kill you to have a beer.”

Kyle reaches out and takes his bottle gladly. Alex sighs and takes the other.

“Are they here?” he asks.

Maria nods, gesturing to the door next to the bar. “They’re out the back. Play nice, okay?”

“You don’t need to tell _us_,” Kyle protests.

They break away from the bar and make their way into the back room. The three warlocks are waiting for them and turn their heads towards the door at the same time. Alex tries not to think about how creepy that is.

His eyes glide over the three of them; Maxwell, with his dark denim jacket, Isobel, with her snow-white hair and strawberry-red lipstick, and Michael, his star-like luminescent eyes finding Alex’s across the room.

He looks away quickly.

“We were beginning to wonder if you’d come,” Isobel says sweetly.

“Ran into some trouble on the way here,” Alex tells her. Not exactly an apology. She tilts her head in understanding anyway.

“Well, thanks for keeping us safe, boys.” She grins at them, and Alex is certain she could eat them both, given the chance.

“We keep our word,” Kyle says, giving voice to Alex’s next thought. “We said we’d help, and we’re going to.”

“Down boy,” Michael teases. “We believe you. As if you weren’t gonna come crawling back.” He looks to Alex and gives an exaggerated wink.

Alex rolls his eyes and focuses on Isobel. "You have news?"

"We do indeed," she confirms. "Bracken is throwing a party this weekend. His 20th anniversary of becoming High Warlock. It would be the perfect opportunity to have a look around."

"You can't seriously think Bracken would just a couple of Shadowhunters into his home?" Alex asks incredulously.

Isobel leans forward with a wicked smile. "He'd have to if you were there as a couple of plus ones."

Alex's eyes narrow. "And who's going to be stupid enough to invite us."

Isobel stands and walks over to Kyke. She reaches out to smooth it the collar of his shirt, unbothered when he flinches slightly.

"I do hope you dance, Mr Valenti," she says. "I'm not known for having dates who can't."

Kyle gulps.

"Are you going to be taking both of us?" Alex asks.

"Nope," Michael answers for her, popping the 'p' sounds. He pushes off the wall he'd been leaning on and walks over to Alex. "You'll be _my _plus one."

Alex ignores the way his heart _ka-thumps _and decides to glare instead. "I'm not going to dance with you."

"Just wait 'til you see how I move, darlin'," Michael drawls, stepping just on the edge of Alex’s space. “I’d _love_ to see you resist.”

“Well I’m not usually in the business of granting wishes,” Alex replies, keeping his eyes ahead and focused on Isobel. “But I’d be willing to make an exception just this once. Will we meet you at Bracken’s residence, Evans?”

Isobel is looking from Alex to Michael with interest, but she eventually settles on Alex. “It will be better to arrive together. Meet us here. I’ll send you a time.”

Alex gives a stiff bow of his head to both Isobel and Max, then turns and leaves the room with Kyle in tow. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but he does hear Isobel’s ringing laughter as they make their way out of the Wild Pony.

**ii.**

Isobel sends him a fire message to set their meeting at nine pm. When he and Kyle turn up to the Wild Pony, the warlocks are waiting at the bar with a round of drinks and they look _good_. Max is in nice slacks and a tame button-up shirt, his hair licked over in a charming way. Isobel is wearing the most stunning, skin-tight silver dress and her hair is cascading over her shoulders in white waves. Michael is wearing a patterned green button-up shirt over dark jeans, only the shirt undone down to the middle of his chest, revealing soft hair and dangling necklaces with various charms.

Alex swallows thickly.

Isobel’s face turns delighted when she sees them.

“Don’t you two just look delicious,” she says. “You even wore some colour. I’m impressed. Nephilim chic is so _depressing_. All that monotone.”

Kyle had rummaged through the closets for an hour before settling on a plain blue shirt and light pants. Alex had opted for a clean red shirt and his black jeans. They had matching leather jackets. Truly, he just wanted to be able to work in whatever outfits they wore. Fashion came second to the mission, but it still pleased him to think that Isobel approved, given how stunning she looked.

“You look lovely,” he says, shaking his head when she offers him a drink. “No drinking on the job.”

“What a dull job,” she says, but doesn’t push. Instead, she steps forward and slips her arm into Kyle’s. “Shall we? I do hate to be late.”

She strolls towards the exit with Kyle in her grasp, leaving Alex to stare awkwardly at her brothers for a moment, before he turns to follow. Barely five seconds out of the Wild Pony and he feels someone catch up to him. He’s not stupid enough to think it’s Max.

“Isobel’s right,” Michael says from where he’s walking next to him. “You do look good tonight.”

Alex turns to look at him. He’s cast a glamour over his eyes, hiding the luminescence and giving himself plain hazel eyes. Except, there’s nothing plain about them. All Alex can think is _molten-honey_. Which is, coincidentally, how his stomach feels when he’s looking directly at the warlock.

“Are you saying I don’t look good _every_ night?” he quips.

Michael’s eyes go wide. “What? No, that’s not what I--” he stops when he sees Alex’s smirk. “Oh, alright. I see how it is. Your wit cuts me to the core.”

“I find that hard to believe,” is Alex’s response. He returns his focus to the street ahead of them, glance darting across the shadows and keeping an eye out for anything hinky. After a minute or two of silence, he clears his throat. “You look -- nice. As well.”

He doesn’t have to turn and look at Michael’s blinding smile, but he does anyway.

*

The party is overwhelming, to say the least. Alex’s senses are assaulted from every angle by the lights, music, smells.. he has to refuse drinks several times in just the first five minutes, and he can see that Kyle seems to be having the same problem.

“Guerin,” he says, since he’s the closest warlock right now. There’s no use in being prideful if it’s going to debilitate them. “Something in here is messing with my senses.”

To his credit, Guerin nods seriously. “It’s the incense. Designed specifically to fuck with you guys.” He turns and grabs a cocktail off a passing tray (the tray hovers by itself, Alex notes with some interest) and waves his hand over it. Wisps of magic spark over the drink and then settle on the surface. He offers the drink to Alex.

“I’m not drinking,” Alex tells him firmly.

Michael rolls his eyes and waves his hand over the drink again. Nothing seems to happen but when he holds the glass up to Alex’s face, the scent of alcohol as disappeared. When Alex still doesn’t take the drink, Michael smiles sweetly. “I respect your boundaries, darlin’. Trust me, or spend the rest of the night unable to think straight.”

“Too late for that,” Alex says, then his eyes go wide. He grabs the drink and takes a large gulp. Michael is watching him in surprised amusement.

Slowly, and with more sips, the room becomes easier to take in. He can start to focus on individual aspects of the crowd, memorise faces, and clock the movements of interesting parties. He breathes a sigh of relief and Michael takes the glass from him, placing it on the nearest flat surface.

“Thank you,” he says, because he _is _grateful.

Michael grins at him. 

“What about Kyle?”

Michael points across the room, over to where Kyle is standing with Isobel and Max, drinking his own glass of something.

“He’ll be fine,” Michael says. “Come on, let’s find someone I can introduce you to.”

*

An hour later and Alex is ready to bail. He has a low tolerance for people on the best of days and that level lowers significantly when dealing with Downworlders who hate him on sight. Some of them deem to give him the time of day when he begrudgingly mentions that he’s here with Michael; one pair of fairies even burst into a fit of giggles at the news and patronizingly give him a message to pass on when Michael is “done with him”.

He’s in the middle of a conversation with a vampire who is being down right aggressive when he nearly snaps. He’s only got one small blade on him but he’s confident he can take the guy with his fists. Before he can put his foot in his mouth though, he feels a gentle hand on his elbow.

“Excuse me,” Michael says to the vampire, voice laced with charm. “I’m going to steal my date away now.” He leans in to Alex. “Dance with me,” he says, and leads him over to an area that seems to have been designated a dance floor.

“I don’t dance,” Alex protests, standing still and awkward across from Michael.

“Neither can I,” Michael admits, setting his hands on Alex’s hips and pulling him close. Alex straight up flushes at the contact; he doesn’t even have a second to collect himself. “I’m sure the two of us can figure out how to sway in time.”

Alex’s hands stutter up towards Michael’s shoulders. “I didn’t say _can’t_,” he corrects. “I said don’t.”

Michael raises an eyebrow. They’re about the same height, so Alex is caught immediately in his gaze.

“Because of your leg?” Michael asks.

Alex immediately bristles.

“Relax.” One of Michael’s hands slips to the small of Alex’s back, guiding them into a firmer sway and getting their hips involved. “You move so fluidly; it’s nearly impossible to tell, but my magic speciality gives me impressive spatial awareness.”

Alex snorts, wanting to curse at himself for how he relaxes just at Michael’s assurance. “And humble too.”

“I’ll prove it to you,” Michael smirks at him. “Just name the time and place.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but movement across the room catches his eye. Michael tracks his gaze and then sighs dramatically when he sees the disruption.

“Looks like our guest of honour is here,” he says sulkily, as if the entire point of this evening hadn’t been for the Shadowhunters to get close to Bracken and investigate him without rousing more suspicion than necessary.

“Come on,” he continues, dropping his hands and taking a step back. “Let’s go and find some drinks. You’ll want to have one in hand when he passes by so you can look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

_I am enjoying myself_, Alex nearly says, which is a crazy thought. They’re here on a mission. There are so many things about this situation that could go horribly wrong. He misses the heat of Michael’s hands on his body already.

Fuck.

**iii.**

Alex nearly walks into a wall. He misses it narrowly and hopes that no one noticed. He doesn’t bother to check though; he’s too busy staring across the room.

Michael Guerin is in the Institute.

The object of Alex’s most recent dreams is standing in the middle of the Institute and talking to his father.

Alex’s mouth goes dry, and it’s not because of the way Michael’s jeans hug his arse, or the way his curls frame his face and make Alex want to reach out and-- he shakes his head and heads over.

“Ah, Alex,” his father says, managing to sound about as impressed with Alex as he ever does. “My youngest son,” he explains to Michael.

“Pleasure,” Michael says as he bows his head, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Mr Guerin is here to strengthen the wards,” his father explains. “Accompany him around the Institute, make sure he finds what he needs.” Which, from his father, means _keep an eye on him and make sure there’s no funny warlock business_.

“Of course, sir,” Alex agrees easily. He waits until his father has walked away before he takes Michael by the arm and drags him into one of the unoccupied studies.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he hisses.

Michael looks utterly delighted at this turn of events. “You heard the man; I’m here to check over your wards. Lovely guy your father, by the way. Real charmer.”

Alex continues to glare at him, despite the twitch at the corner of his mouth that threatens to turn into something resembling a smile.

“You can’t be here,” he says instead. “If my father even _suspected _that you’re involved in any of the shit you’re involved in, he wouldn’t hesitate to--”

“Relax, soldier,” Michael drawls. “I can maintain a ruse. _You’re _the one that dragged me in here for a -- private audience.” His luminescent eyes _definitely _twinkle with unrestrained mirth. “Are you worried about me?”

Alex scoffs. “Worried you’ll make trouble, maybe.”

“Trouble can be fun,” Michael says, touching tongue to canines. His gaze drags down Alex’s body and he makes no move to hide it.

Alex flushes, which is becoming a problematic reaction to the warlock’s antics.

Michael takes a step forward, Alex takes one backwards in response. “I think you were worried about me,” Michael says, moving until Alex is backing up against one of the desks. Michael meets him there and their knees touch. “I think you like me,” he continues, pressing into Alex’s space. “You Nephilim; you can’t help but be fascinated.”

They’re practically sharing the same air now and Alex gasps because they’re _so _close. Michael moves forward and then just as quickly, he’s taking several steps backward.

The door to the room opens and Liz pokes her head through.

“Alex? Someone said you -- oh.” Her eyes flick from Alex to Michael and then back again.

“We were just moving on to the next ward,” Alex says, waving a hand. “Where did you say was next?”

“The South-most wall,” Michael says easily, striding over to the door. “Shall we, Manes?”

“Yeah, sure.” Alex kicks his brain back into gear and follows, ignoring the look that Liz gives him as she closes the door and joins them.


	2. iv-+i

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got longer than i meant for it to be, but isn't that the way with fanfic?
> 
> hope you enjoy, my dudes.

**iv.**

The second time Alex sees Michael at the Institute, he misses Michael’s arrival because he and Kyle are training. He has to keep up regular PT and training so that he doesn’t get stiff on his prosthetic. It’s the best that Alicante can provide, and the use of runes helped immensely when he was still getting used to the feel of it, but it’s still an artificial limb and it requires training, just like a blade does.

“What’s Guerin doing here” Kyle asks, looking over Alex’s shoulder just as Alex’s training staff connects with his knee.

“Ow, shit!” he exclaims, dropping his own staff to grip at his knee. His words register as Alex watches him hop around in pain.

“Guerin’s here?” He turns to look in the direction that Kyle had been looking, spotting Michael coming down the corridor that leads to his father’s office. He’s sauntering down the corridor with a kind of casual nonchalance that Alex is quickly coming to learn is a defense.

Michael spots the two of them, the carefully placed smirk falling from his face. That makes Alex falter. Michael is usually pleased to see him, and he can’t think of anything he’s done in the past two weeks that would have changed that. He still walks over to Alex and Kyle though, so Alex counts that as a win.

He walks to the edge of the training floor and stands there awkwardly. Alex can’t remember ever seeing Michael do _anything _awkwardly. He’s staring at Alex so obviously and without the usual accompanying teasing expression, and it’s making Alex shift self consciously under the attention.

“What are you doing here?” Kyle asks, before either of them can speak.

Michael shakes his head, as if bringing himself back to the present. He gestures vaguely in the direction he came from.

“Apparently there was some suspicious magical activity in the Institute a few nights ago. Since I was the last warlock in here, the bossman called me in to question me.” And now he does smirk. “I told him that the cheap parlour tricks he described were beneath me. And besides, I have a firm alibi.” He winks at Alex, awkwardness apparently forgotten.

Alex smiled back. Of course Michael had an alibi for the night that a timed-release spell had terrorised the other side of the Institute to his father’s office, requiring he be called there immediately. They’d _planned _it that way, allowing Alex the time he needed to slip into the office and find his way into his father’s computer.

“And was he satisfied?” he asks Michael, the underlying question clear: _are we safe_?

“If he wasn’t,” Michael replies with a shrug. “There’s nothing more I can do.”

“Well, we’re grateful for your help in solving the mystery,” Alex tells him, the pause in the conversation reminding him that he and Kyle are standing there in their training clothes, sweaty and exhausted. He lifts the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his face and hears a sharp intake of breath from the edge of the floor. When he looks up again, he sees Michael’s gaze trained on him a strange expression on his face. It’s like he can’t tear his eyes away.

Alex looks down at himself and one glance at his right leg is a sharp reminded that Michael’s never seen him in anything other than full-length pants before. It’s easier to be this exposed in shorts when it’s just Kyle. Kyle, who took one look at Alex in that hospital bed and vowed to train harder, to change the way _he _fought in order to accommodate the change.

He shifts uncomfortably and Michael’s gaze snaps to his face.

“Sorry, can you repeat that, darlin’?” he asks in that drawl of his. “My mind was -- _elsewhere_.” He drags his gaze down Alex again, not even faltering over the place where flesh became metal, and heat pools in Alex’s belly.

_Oh_.

Michael was flirtatious. Alex had figured that out quickly and assumed it was just the way he was. While Michael seemed to enjoy a back and forth with him, Alex had no evidence to suggest that it wasn't just because he was someone who was present. He hadn’t deluded himself into thinking that Michael was flirting with him _in particular_. But now… there’s a certain kind of headiness that comes from the sight of Michael’s half-lidded his eyes, his gaze slowly working its way back up to Alex’s face.

It’s heady. It’s still a bad idea.

He clears his throat.

“We’re grateful for your services,” he says, ignoring the weird look that Kyle is giving him out of the corner of his eye.

“Anything to help the Shadowhunters.” Michael gives a mocking bow, still grinning when he straightens up again. “Don’t hesitate to call if _you _require my services.”

He waggles his eyebrows and Alex laughs in response. He’s still laughing when Michael salutes them and turns to leave.

It’s only when he’s disappeared around the corner that Alex finally turns to look at Kyle, who is frowning at him like he’s figuring out a particularly difficult puzzle.

Then, “Are you two --?”

Alex screws up his face, despite the train of thought he’d been following mere moments ago. “No, god. Of course not.”

“Because you’re not interested?”

Alex presses his lips together in a thin line. Had it been anyone else, he would have outright lied. There was usually no point in lying to Kyle though; they knew each other too well.

Instead, “It’s a bad idea.”

Kyle’s brow furrows further. “That’s not what I asked.”

“That’s what you’re getting,” Alex counters. He gestures to the staff still in his hand. “You done? Or are you gonna let me kick your ass some more?”

The frown took on a different quality as Kyle bent over to pick up his own staff. “Yeah, yeah. Come here and hit me, you smug bastard.”

**v.**

“Guerin!”

Alex refuses to panic as Michael drops to the ground several feet away from him. The Ravener turns towards the new sound, the cluster of insectile eyes in the centre of its long-domed skull blinking and then flaring with anger. It charges towards him, its multiple clawed legs skittering against the ground as it zig zags down the alleyway.

He pulls the handle of his new blade from his belt, so new it hasn’t even been named yet. Alex looks over at the warlock’s unconscious form, cursing the idiot for not just staying _put _and letting Alex protect him. None of that compares the sickening horror he feels at the site of blood dripping from the Ravener’s mouth.

Alex grips the tubed handle tighter. “Michael!” he shouts, and the two-foot blade extends from the handle, bright, two-edged, and glowing like a holy fire.

He rolls out of the way of the demon at the last second, bringing his blade down in a swinging arc. It slices clean through the monster’s flesh, causing it to let out an agonising screech. Alex turns just in time to see the creature explode into ash. Then he’s rushing over to Michael, dropping to his knees beside the warlock and reaching out to shake him.

“You better not be dead,” he hisses.

Michael groans and turns over, blinking slowly as he looks up at Alex. His gaze seems to focus, and his lips curl into a smile.

“And here I thought warlocks didn’t get to see angels when we die.”

Alex smacks him on the shoulder in frustration. “Don’t joke about this, idiot! A Ravener’s bite is venomous.”

Michael just continues to smile at him. “You worried about me, soldier?”

“Augh!” He starts to look over Michael’s body. “Where did it bite you? Shit, Kyle's better at field first aid than I am. If I can suck out the venom…”

“As much as I like the idea of your lips on my person,” Michael starts, pulling his hand up from his side. Floating around in his palm is a green, almost radioactive-looking liquid. “I’ve already managed that part.”

Alex’s breath leaves him in a _whoosh_ and he slumps backwards onto the ground, sprawling out unselfconsciously. “You are an _ass_,” he tells Michael accusingly. “I promised your sister I’d keep you safe from all the demon assassins being sent to kill you. Do you know what she’d do to my brain if you died on my watch?” He swallows thickly. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

Michael rolls his eyes from where he’s still lying on the ground. “Of course. That’s the only reason you’d be upset that I died. The _mission_.” He flicks his wrist and sends the venom splattering to the ground, where it sinks into the concrete and becomes inert.

“Maybe that’s not -- the only reason,” Alex allows.

Michael turns and looks at Alex’s seraph blade, which is lying next to him on the ground.

“So, did I hear you calling my name,” he asks with renewed mirth. “Or did you name your holy blade after me?”

Alex flushes, possibly the worst he’s ever flushed. “I thought you were dead!” he protests. “And it’s named after an _angel_. It’s not my fault it’s also your name.”

Michael presses a hand to his heart. “You were going to avenge me with a blade named after me. My hero.”

“Shut up.” Alex nudges him with his foot. “We should move. Can you stand?”

Michael shifts on the ground and groans. “I might need my hero’s assistance,” he says, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

Alex rolls his eyes but moves to help Michael stand, pointedly ignoring the warmth of Michael’s hands on his shoulders, and the tingling in his hands where his fingers grip Michael’s hips.

“My hero,” Michael says again, softer this time.

**\+ i.**

Michael is in sweatpants and a sleep-worn shirt when he answers the door. His curls are rumpled, he has the imprint of a cushion seam on his face, he looks amazing and Alex _wants_. He’s still in his gear, his hair is plastered to his forehead from the rain, and he’s sure that he has a wild look in his eye. He might have talked himself out of it, told himself how out of league the beautiful warlock in front of him is, if he hadn’t been fuelled by adrenaline.

“Alex,” Michael greets him in surprise. He looks Alex over. “Are you okay? Come inside.” He opens the door further to let him in.

Alex doesn’t even wait for the door to close before he’s launching himself at Michael, who makes a surprised sound against his mouth. He brings his hands up to grip Michael’s face, fingers sliding against the stubble there.

Michael takes a moment to react, long enough that Alex starts to worry. But when he does; _damn_. His arms wind around Alex’s middle and he pulls Alex flush against him, tilting his head to the side to change the angle at which their lips lock together.

Kissing Michael is nothing compared to having Michael kiss him back. The wet slide of their mouths is intoxicating, everywhere that their bodies line up is hot. Michael is a furnace and Alex feels like he’s been cold for too long. He’s on the tiptoes of his boots because he’d wanted the angle. When he goes to lower himself back he nearly loses his footing but Michael catches him, taking the opportunity to walk him backwards until his shoulders a wall.

Michael loosens one arm and presses his hand to the wall next to Alex’s head, using the leverage to wedge Alex between himself and the wall. Alex keens in response and reaches up to slip his hands into Michael’s hair, clutching at the curls that he’s spent weeks thinking about. Michael groans against his open mouth and Alex’s fingers tighten reflexively. It makes Michael shiver, so he does it again.

They kiss until Alex’s lips feel sore. He could stand there and kiss Michael forever but he wants. He _wants_. Michael grabs his face with both hands to change the angle again.

Alex’s hands go for the waistband of his sweatpants, and Michael pulls away with a wet gasp.

“Alex wait, wait,” he mumbles. “Hold on a second.”

Alex pulls away so quickly that he nearly connects with the wall behind him. He screws his eyes shut against the sudden instinct to turn and run, just trying to breathe through the feeling, despite the fact that he’s panting and out of breath.

“Did you --” _fuck_ “Do you not want this?” he asks, trying to keep his voice even. He’s immediately berating himself for kissing Michael, for coming here at all. Shit, just because Michael flirts with him doesn’t mean he ever had any intention of it being anything else. God, of course he doesn’t want --

“Don't be stupid," Michael says and Alex bristles.

Michael holds him steady with strong hands though, thumbs rubbing slow circles into Alex's cheeks. "I wanted you the other day when you broke up that werewolf fight in the Wild Pony." He drops his head and presses a wet kiss to Alex's jaw. "I want you right now." He presses their hips together so Alex can feel the long, hard line of his cock through the sweatpants. He lets out a desperate little moan.

"And," Michael continues. "I'll still want you tomorrow morning when you've slept this off and you feel like yourself. When you remember why I'm a bad idea."

He goes to move but Alex keeps him there with his hands on Michael's hips.

"I'll still want you tomorrow too," he says, staring at the spot where Michael's loose shirt has been pushed over his shoulder, revealing collarbone and glowing skin. He leans down to suck a red mark into the skin where shoulder meets neck. Michael arches against the touch, groaning. "I always want you," Alex murmurs into the space there.

"Okay, okay." Michael says breathlessly. He pats at Alex's face uselessly. "Stay. Sleep. We can talk about this in the morning."

Alex agrees and they disentangle themselves, albeit extremely reluctantly. He moves towards the couch; it won't be the first time he's slept on it, but Michael grabs him by the wrist before he can get too far.

"I have a giant bed," he explains. "And you need to take that off." He gestures to Alex's leg.

Michael's right. He needs to take the prosthetic off. He already pushes himself too far and there's no way he's going to be functional tomorrow if he sleeps with it on.

"Okay," he agrees. Michael's smile is blinding.

He borrows a pair of sweats; they hang loosely on his hips but it's not like he's going to be running marathons in them. Michael disappears from the bedroom while he changes and sits on the edge of the bed to remove the prosthetic. He places it by the side of the bed, along with his crutch, currently in its compact form. He settles himself against the, surprisingly plain, pillows.

"I'm decent!" he calls out.

Michael appears a few minutes later, and his eyebrows go up when his gaze lands on Alex. "Well, that's a lie," he says.

It makes Alex smile, and he hadn't realised how uneasy he was feeling until that moment.

Michael hesitates at the edge of the bed. "I know _I _suggested this," he starts. "But I can sleep on the couch if--"

"Now who's being stupid?" Alex asks. He wriggles his way under the single sheet and gestures to the empty side of the bed. "Unless you double in size while you sleep, I think we'll be fine."

"Yeah. Of course." Michael shakes himself out of it and moves to the other side of the bed. Then he pulls his shirt off in one smooth movement and climbs in.

Alex retracts his previous statement. Things are definitely not fine. All he can think about are defined pecs and chest hair and nipples. He grasps blindly for a distraction.

"I'm sorry for just showing up," he says.

Michael turns to look at him, propping himself up on one hand. The room is illuminated by fairy lights, set up on the far wall of the room like a climbing vine. He only notices it now because they're making Michael's skin glow. His eyes seem duller than usual, seems Alex wonders vaguely if that's something that happens naturally, or if Michael has cast a glamour.

"I told you, you're welcome anytime," Michael says. "Do you want to tell me why you turned up wet and ready to jump my bones though?"

Alex chokes on a laugh, still surprised sometimes by Michael's way of speaking.

Michael grins back at him. "Not that I'm complaining, of course. It's just a little out of character for you."

Alex hesitates. It’s not something he’d usually open up about but there’s a part of him that want Michael _specifically_ to understand, and another part that just wants to be able to tell someone about the thoughts and plans spinning around in his mind.

“I got into it with my dad today,” he says, making the decision. “It’s the same old bullshit every time. Uphold the family legacy, Alex. Don’t disgrace me anymore than you already have, Alex. Keep your perversions in check, Alex.”

Michael makes a small noise of distress.

Alex sighs. He doesn’t even have the energy to be angry at this point. He’s just tired. He tells Michael as much. “I _know _the mission is important. A holy calling is a little hard to ignore. I just wanted to do something I _wanted_, for once. I wanted what_ I_ want to matter.”

“Matters to me,” Michael says quietly. Even dimmed, his golden eyes are breathtaking. Alex wants to kiss him again. He tries to tamper down the feeling.

“Yeah,” he says instead. “I think I’m starting to get that.”

He watches as Michael’s expression turns soft and warm. “Hey, you came here.”

Alex frowns. “Uh, yes?”

It makes Michael laugh, deep and gentle. The sound becomes the heat in Alex’s flushed cheeks. “You were talking about what you wanted,” Michael clarifies. “And you came here.”

“Oh.” He stares up at the ceiling, the molten feeling low in his stomach turning light and fluttery. “Yes.” Then, firmer: “Yeah, I did. Is that okay?”

Michael smiles sleepily at him. “Yeah, Alex. It’s okay.”

Alex closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. He’s still smiling when he falls asleep.


	3. the morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just a very short, smutty epilogue that i wrote for the rnm fluff weekend!
> 
> as usual, unbeta'd. all mistakes are mine!

When Alex wakes the next morning, it’s to soft sunlight streaming through the mutli-coloured window of Michael’s bedroom. He’s lying on his back on the softest mattress he’s ever slept on and for a second he nearly forgets where he is. Michael is lying on his side, facing Alex, the sheet pushed down to his navel to reveal golden skin and hair that leads below the sheet.

A wave of embarrassment floods over him as he remembers last night's events, and yet he can’t find it in himself to regret coming here. He’s wanted Michael for weeks, longer than that if he’s being honest with himself, and now he knows for certain that Michael wants him in return. He can handle the embarrassment of turning up last night like he did if it means knowing that for sure.

He feels shyer in the morning light, but no less determined. He reaches out with slightly trembling fingers and presses the softest of touches to Michael’s chest. When that small touch doesn’t set off any panic in him, he splays his fingers out across Michael’s skin, biting his lip at the feeling of hair underneath his fingertips.

Michael’s eyes flutter open in surprise. His gaze softens into something warm and molten when he sees Alex, his lips curling into a smile as he settles into the bed.

“You’re still here,” he murmurs. His voice is raspy from sleep and the sound goes straight down Alex’s spine.

"I am," Alex agrees, unnecessarily. His hand is still on Michael's bare skin, but Michael hasn't touched him yet. "Do you -- you said you'd still want me in the morning."

"I did," Michael says. He lifts his hand to cover Alex's, threading their fingers together and then bringing them up to kiss the pads of Alex's fingertips. "I do. Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes," Alex says breathlessly. Each kiss leaves his skin tingling. "Guerin --"

Michael's eyes flick up from where he's looking at Alex's hands. His eyes glow bright and luminous like stars, even in the morning light.

"Michael," Alex says instead.

"Alexander," Michael responds, voice fond and amused. "Come here."

He's not expecting the kiss to his forehead. Michael's warm lips press against his brow, his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, before they finally slide across to capture his mouth.

At first it’s just the slow press of lips, tender and chaste, but it quickly becomes something else. Michael coaxes his mouth open with gentle nips, curls their tongues together, and Alex genuinely loses himself in the sensations for a little while.

Michael pushes him gently back into the mattress and slides over him, their warm bodies creating sparks wherever they meet, as Alex slides his hands over the broad planes of Michael’s shoulders and down the naked skin of his back. His skin tingles everywhere that Michael’s hands touch and he wonders if there’s real magic involved or if it’s just Michael himself. He lets out a groan as Michael settles between his legs, arching into the touch.

“Oh, fuck -- _please_,” Alex mumbles. His hands are grabbing at Michael’s back, just below his hips, fingers scrambling for purchase that will make Michael keep moving.

He does, taking Alex's non-artificial leg and hitching it over his hip to open the gap between Alex's legs further and press down into it. He rests his forearms by Alex's head and puts his weight on them so that he can lean down and kiss Alex at the same time that he starts to rolls his hips again.

He sucks down on the side of Alex’s neck, not nearly hard enough to bruise, but just the thought of it has Alex’s head spinning. Walking into the institute with the proof of Michael purple against the skin of his neck.

It should not be this good. They are both still wearing pants, but the feeling of his cock sliding against the sweats, the hard outline of Michael moving against him, has Alex feeling as though his brain is made of molasses. He can't think beyond the desire for the friction to continue exactly as it is, for his hands to keep touching sweat slick skin, for Michael to keep kissing him anywhere and everywhere. But he can feel the pleasure building at the base of his spine, each spark making him arch up into Michael to chase the sensation.

"I don't want to stop," Alex gasps.

"Who said anything about stopping?” Michael grins down at him. “This is just round one, sweetheart.” His curls are plastered to his forehead and his lips are kiss-bruised red. He looks like something the Angel himself created and Alex only has a second to consider how absolutely fucked he is before his head’s dropping back and he’s coming with a keen that’s swallowed up by Michael’s mouth.

When his eyes flutter open again, Michael is watching him with a thumb at his lips and a soft expression. His hips are still shifting minutely and Alex’s breath catches at the feeling. It’s almost painful, just on the good side of almost too much.

Michael starts to pull away and Alex breaks through the foggy post-orgasm haze to grab at his hip. He licks a messy, wet stripe down his other hand and shoves it down Michael’s sweats to grab the hot, hard, length of him. His own soft cock twitches valiantly at the feeling as he starts to stroke Michael at a matching pace to their hips.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Michael murmurs. “I could do this all day.”

"You _could_." Alex tells him innocently. “I have a stamina rune.”

Michael comes, burying his face in Alex's neck with a low groan.

He lets Michael draw away this time but he doesn’t go far, flopping down on the bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch his breath.

Alex goes to wipe his hand on Michael’s sweats and then thinks better of it, instead lifting his hand to his mouth and licking Michael off his fingers. The movement draws Michael’s gaze and his eyes _spark _in response.

“When do you have to be back?” he asks in a voice that makes Alex shiver.

“I don’t,” he responds. “Unless there’s an incident.”

Michael runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he shifts against Alex, eliciting a noise from both of them at the over-stimulation.

“Well then,” he says, raising his hand to run his knuckles down Alex’s cheek. “Pray to the Angel that there’s no incidents.”

Then he leans down to capture Alex’s mouth and proceeds to blow his mind all over again.


End file.
